


In Every Direction

by kabeswaters



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Rape/Non-con Elements, but it is resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17104811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabeswaters/pseuds/kabeswaters
Summary: The morning after a party which went desperately out of hand, during which Remus was convinced you were cheating on him, so sought out drunken revenge.





	1. Downwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y/N's POV

When your eyes lifted open, body shifting awake, you knew by the strange amount darkness and heat which surrounded you that you had fallen asleep in an unusual location. And against something unusual, too; the thick and rough texture of it made you assume it was a hand. You slid your fingers down, discovering something that felt like rings on the knuckles of whomever you had fallen asleep alongside. Or perhaps not alongside: as you rose the bridge of your nose from where it rested in the crook of their neck, finally having eyes to assess your position, you realized you had drifted off while on your knees, leaning over a body that laid across the largest couch in the Gryffindor common room. 

“Sirius?” you questioned, his eyelids fluttering in attempt to wake, lips mumbling incoherencies. He reeked of the stale scent of leftover alcohol, the kind that is strong and dense in the air. You crinkled your nose at it, your mouth frowning unconsciously. 

Soon those ringed fingers were back, pawing at your arm and missing every now and again. “Water,” he groaned. His head stays tilted up to the ceiling as you found a cup marked with his name in your handwriting, taking a careful sip after a thoughtful sniff to clarify the liquid was water, as assumed.

As you turned back towards him you heard the rustling of leather against leather, jacket against sofa, as he sat up in preparation to drink. “Pace yourself,” you reminded him before he grabbed the cup and ignored your orders by gulping it down. “Are you feeling okay? Everyone went kind of crazy last night. Especially you Marauders. I couldn’t even have anything since I had to take care of you.”

He nodded, but the pinching of the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and pointer finger left you doubtful. His full sentence reply rejuvenated your hope: “I see James and Peter on that couch. Where’s Remus?”

You too looked around, finding tangled bodies everywhere—including Peter, whose entire body was intertwined in James and snored against it loudly— but none of them had the slightly curled hair, soft yet defined cheekbones and tall frame of your boyfriend. 

“He must have gone upstairs,” you decided to yourself, aloud. “Maybe he accidentally fell asleep when he was going to get another jumper, since he gave me the one he was wearing.”

“Check,” Sirius said, flailing his arm towards the staircase with indifferent listlessness before laying down stop it. Fatigue weighed down his voice, making it seem empty yet filled with rough gravel, as he suggested, “You might want water.” 

“Already ahead of you,” you responded while grabbing a lukewarm water bottle that had not been claimed during the party last night. You hopped over passed out bodies in strange positions, tipped over cups that had beads of liquid dribbled out their tops, open and empty chip bags and the occasional shoe, making you wonder how exactly someone had not realized one of their feet was only in a sock or barefoot against the slick hardwood. The boards of it creaked slightly as you walked up the staircase, loudly enough to make you jump slightly at first, but not to cover the sounds of whispering voices as you reached Remus’ dorm.

Your fingers were wrapped around the doorknob, heating up the brushed metal, ready to turn it open but rapidly staying steady after hearing the question of, “But didn’t it feel good?” It was said in a soft voice, but not of wonderment. You could feel the seduction in it from inside the hall, and you begged the unfamiliar voice not be replied to by one you knew so well, that was rough and calloused yet warm and made you laugh and feel safe. 

So of course it was that sound, the one you had deemed most beautiful until just then, which answered. “It’s not about how it felt,” Remus said. His softness was not out of seduction, at least: it was a quiet tone out of the seething quality his voice possessed. “It was wrong.”

Somehow, over the screeching of your heartbeat, you could discern the rummaging in bedsheets. Bedsheets. Bedsheets. Your breath was hitching at the pictures those sounds were painting in your mind, dark and devious. Almost as much as the girl who asked Remus, “But how could it feel so good?” 

Remus stuttered a bit and she laughed and you tighten your jaw, teeth pressing against teeth, fingers digging into the metal to steady their small quaking motions. She said something again, something that sounded like, “come on,” before the unmistakable pucker of lips against lips rang in your ears and your fingers twisted, rotating the handle, opening the door and you slammed it open and stood with weak knees and a shaking body.

Their heads whipped towards you and exposed two opposing expressions. The first was one of pride, with a thin smirk and glistening eyes that made your stomach turn in on itself. The second was one of disbelief, mouth open in a wide frown and eyes heavy with concern, but it could of been fear or sorrow, or all three. You wondered how you looked as you wore all three at the discovery of your boyfriend being straddled by another woman right before your glossy eyes. 

You pointed your water bottle at the girl, feeling pathetic even before she began snickering. “You have to leave. Right now.” 

She frowned, the artificial quality of worry making you singe with anger. “Or what? Are you gonna use that water bottle? Hm? Maybe pour it all over me? Get me all wet, like your boyfriend likes—”

“Get the fuck out of this room this instant,” you screamed, approaching her with footsteps so heavy they could break through the floor, yet the sound of them was covered completely by your sporadic heartbeat that rang in your ears. You grabbed her wrist, between layers of bracelets, pulling her off of Remus and onto unstable yet standing legs as she struggled against you.

“Get off of me, freak,” she said while separating your bodies.

“Says the girl who willingly sleeps with someone who she knows is in a relationship.” She went to open her mouth, spit out another degrading comment, but you cut her off in continuation. “Go,” you demanded, stepping into her space, watching her walk backwards to keep away from you. “Take your shit and leave.”

She grabbed a shirt and skirt from across the room, making your heart drop down further than your body could handle because that mean they were there, too, that they had pushed one another against that wall and suddenly you needed one to hold onto, to keep your stance steady. You watched her step into the skirt with lavish grace before saying, “excuse me, I believe I said take your shit and leave.”

Her mouth gaped. “You don’t want me to get dressed?”

“I want you to listen to the words I’m saying and get out of this fucking dormitory. I couldn’t give less shits about what you are wearing.”

The smirk returned as she hummed, “Everyone will know.”

“Fine,” you screamed. “Then let them know. Let them know you’re a horrible person that sleeps with men in established relationships. That’s just the branding you deserve.”

You were breathless when she finally left, doing so with a loud scoff and slammed door, relieved yet terrified, elated yet wrathful, as you were finally alone with Remus’ fraudulent frame and amoral lips. Finding yourself in the middle of the room, facing the door which still resonated with the tail-ends of a brassy bang, you turned towards Remus, who was shuffling up onto his feet from the muddled bedsheets, forever tinged with deceit.

He looked at you as if you were standing further away from him than you were, as if his heart was as broken as yours (it couldn’t be, you knew). It was impossibly silent as you both stood, considering each other but not coaxing or prodding, keeping the space between the two of you tangible and unbreakable, even when he spoke.

“You deserve to know exactly what happened,” he said, carefully, and you were about to sarcastically applaud him for finally thinking through his actions, but swallowed the anger whole, feeling it ripple through your body uncomfortably. “We had sex.” You shivered. “Oral and penetrative. I was drunk, but I’m not sure if she was.” 

You hated that you had to focus on bringing your eyes up to his, that they were at his feet in the first place, instead of glaring into him like an unforgivingly hot, blazing sun that could burn right through him. But you felt winded every time you looked up at him, reminded that his skin, that hair, those eyes, that neck, those freckles, that chest, all of the parts of Remus you thought he kept for your love only—he promised he would, didn’t he?—had been touched by someone else in the same way. Unable to express your anger physically, you decided to just tell him.

But it was still pathetically broken, interrupted with ragged breaths and gleaming tears. “I can’t believe you’d do this,” you said. “I thought you loved me exclusively. You promised.”

Remus’ hand went for your body but you shifted so his fingers never touched your skin. “Don’t,” you begged, begged as if you were the one that did something wrong and you hated that Remus wasn’t the one with desperation overflowing his words while on his knees, making a fool out of himself with extravagant apologies. 

But then you realized why: in the silence during which you longed for his pleading, you heard small whimperings from across the room, quietly demanding your attention. Upon looking up at Remus once more you realized he was crying in earnest, so much his body was quaking like tree limbs in unforgiving winter winds, with one hand over his eyes at a slant and the other squeezing the base of his t-shirt into a tight knot.

Standing your ground, you refused the urge to run to him, but still allowed your heart twist from his sadness, your crying to intensify slightly. The streaming of your tears still did not compare to Remus’ ruptures, his ragged and ugly breaths between outbursts. You had never seen him cry so hard and in realizing that fact, had to fight the instinct of your arm, which longed to reach out to him in comfort. But this was his begging, this was his humiliation and being on his hands and knees without needing to. He wasn’t trying to win you back yet, perhaps, but this was his apology, his expression of his embarrassment so you soaked it in, forced your eyes open and your body’s disinterest to his breaking down, down, down so far downwards you were surprised he hadn’t fallen to the floor just by the force of it.

Yet, to your surprise, as his sobbing died down his voice boomed through the dorm. “I love you so much.” It was rough and uneven but still his so made you melt just as much as it made you tense in anger. “So much I want you to leave even though I couldn’t live without you. Because even though I was drunk and jealous, that’s not an excuse. I had so much and I wasn’t thinking but you deserve more so it’s so selfish of me to ask you to stay. But please don’t leave me. Please.”

“You were fucking someone while I was asleep in your jumper,” you said, watching him nod, the hand held in front of his face not able to block how it clenched in pain at your words. “And I just… do you know how stupid that made me feel?”

“It’s only because I thought you were fucking Sirius.”

If it weren’t for the obvious stiffening of his body, as if he were made of boards instead of bones, that occured after he said those words, the silence which followed was the kind that proved what he said was an accident, an impulse that wasn’t supposed to be followed through with. His eyes were filled with the kind of panic that begged for the next word, but you spoke first. “So what if I was? If I jumped off a cliff would you follow me?”

“No—”

“Then why would you sleep with someone you barely know just because Sirius and I might be having sex?”

His arms dropped to his sides angrily, his mouth letting out a loud huff. “Because I was incredibly drunk and convinced that you were definitely going to cheat on me with Sirius so I should get back at you.”

“She said that,” you realized aloud, tilting your head to the side while his nodded. “And you trusted some girl you barely knew more than your own girlfriend?”

“Well you were all over Sirius.”

“Only because he was drunk and puking and I was trying to help him!” As you took a breath, filling your lungs that had just emptied in a scream, you saw Remus curl up into himself in guilt. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping yourself, here,” you said, feeling brokenness creep up into your voice, trying to fight it with a gulping of your throat. “Shouldn’t you be convincing me to stay?”

“The first thing I said was that you deserve to know exactly what happened,” he said with such iciness you could sense it on your skin, sending goosebumps up your spine. “And I was drunk and convinced you were cheating on me and convinced to do the same. And I am so incredibly sorry, but she made me so sure that I was doing the right thing and I was too drunk to know otherwise.”

“Were you drunk enough to not know what you were doing?” you asked.

Remus nodded his head and you felt your knees weaken to the floor. “I thought it was the right thing to do,” he explained, looking at you squarely, with far too much logic in his sentences. “I’m so sorry. I… I can’t even describe to you how stupid I feel. Because I do love you, and I do trust you, I promise. She just knew exactly what to do to break me down completely. And I know that’s not an excuse, which is why I’m struggling between being mean and bursting into tears again because I love you so much I want you to stay, but also so much I want you to leave because fuck, you don’t deserve this.”

The space between you, which had only been touched by Remus’ swinging arm, was finally shortened by a small step forwards. You watched your feet as they shuffled, looked up at Remus to find he was doing the same, staring at those worn down Converse. His didn’t move, stayed planted as he breathed and broke the silence, but the silence returned like all unwanted things always do, like the knowledge of what Remus did right when you were about to smile at his horribly tangled hair. 

That’s when you realized the most difficult thing in the world, harder than hearing his honest words of treachery and feeling them dig into your heart ruthlessly, was not loving him. It was a reflex, an instinct, a part of you. So you took one more step in with the feet he was still staring at. Then another. Then two, followed by a pause, followed by three. That’s when you learned that you had been standing around nine feet away from him. Nine feet that contained nine galaxies.

“I don’t deserve this,” you agreed, close enough you could almost feel his breath on you, the same way you could feel winds while under ceilinged corridors, but with less strength than in open courtyards. “But I still love you. Somehow. Against my better judgement, perhaps. But I still love you.”

You weren’t sure exactly what restricted his smile but something did, thinning it and dimming it. “Is it selfish of me to want you to not break up with me?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, watching his nearly non-existent smile to turn into a full-on frown. “And I think I might have to.”

Remus’ eyes widened to an impossible size, and no longer were they hazel but they were afraid. Their color was fear, looming and dark, restless. His body quivered. “But I thought…you said… ” 

“I do love you,” you repeated, but this time it was broken and choppy, as if your voice was an ocean and the words tempestuous waves. They drowned you into them, too, and by the apologetic glance you gave towards Remus, he was also drawn under, struggling, gasping for air. You clutched his shirt besides yourself, up by where the sides of his ribcage met right under his chest. You clutched it, wishing you could grasp him by the skin and pull him impossibly close to you. “I just… I’m going to need some time.” His skin shook under your coiled fingertips. “You cheated on me. Even if I can forgive you I still am going to need some distance.”

So you began it, the distance, releasing the fabric and backing away from him, hating how both Remus and your heart screamed at you to do otherwise. “Please,” he was begging, standing still, afraid to cross lines but so desperate his voice ached, sagging, gruesome. “I’m so sorry. I promise I won’t do anything like this again. I’ll do anything.” He was howling through his sobs instead of talking through the downpours of tears, his body convulsing under the pain, radiating it so your heart stung, too. As if walking away from him wasn’t hard enough on it’s own, without the pleads of “Y/N, please, I’m so sorry baby. I promise I’ll be better.”

“I know,” you assured, behind a layer of tears so thick it felt like raindrops. “I know.” You kept repeating it, believing in him but feeling as if you were lying as you walked closer to the door, opened it, descended the staircase and left the common room without a word to a concerned Sirius and now awake James and Peter, who called after you like Remus but if you couldn’t stay for the man you loved, who else could ever keep you?


	2. Sideways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week has passed since the incident, and Remus finds himself breaking both from the guilt of his mistake and being ignored by Y/N and Sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Remus' POV

The breath on his exposed throat was hot but didn’t feel like heat, capital H and all dizzying. Maybe it was alright, since the barrage of drinks he was practically spoon-fed by her were more than enough to suffice for the sensation of heat, but shouldn’t the fire have came from her lips and tongue, trailing across his Adam’s apple smoothly? Was it bad that Remus was so drunk he couldn’t truly tell the difference between being drunk and turned-on, that he was definitely the former, and not the latter. 

Or at least not the latter without the former, without the dosings of gin and vodka and Firewhiskey mixed in with a few derogatory comments from her red lips. “She doesn’t see anything in you like I do. Too busy fucking your best mate to treat you right.” It was easy to believe anything when under such a heavy veil of intoxication, especially when her words manipulated his low-self esteem, something drinking only intensified within Remus’ already self-derogatory existence.

Her painted fingernails traced along the seam of Remus’ pants and his breath hitched high in his throat, choking. The physical reaction was not difficult to coax—or entice, perhaps, considering her rather aggressive style—but it still didn’t feel the same as when other girls were in that position with him. As Y/N. He wasn’t as breathless or desparate or aching for something more that he couldn’t quite name, yet still craved so violently his body shook.

But his limbs were still fiery, too drunk to realize he was drunk, but not enough to realize the sensations weren’t the same. Something was lacking, desperately, even though she was doing everything right with the words and licks and slight turn of her wrist. Even if he was seeing stars, they felt further away, leaving Remus feeling more empty than fulfilled. 

Her face lifted up—Remus didn’t even realize it had been near where her hand was touching, as all he saw were blurs of shapes—and it was the weight of her body that made Remus realize she was above him. Even drunk he could descipher the next sentence she said with glaring clarity. “I want us to go all the way. Really prove it to her.” She sunk their lips back together as if Remus’ mouth was her birthright and Remus gasped into it, almost trying to pull back.

But he was drunk and thought his flaming skin was due to her kissing. He was drunk and hated himself more than usual after emptying as many bottles as he did into his stomach. He was drunk and all of her words sounded so sweet: “You deserve this kind of love” and “I’ll treat you better than she could have,” so easy to believe that he was missing something even though he had it all, just forgotten it. Because all he could see were blurs of shapes and when he looked over at Y/N hung over Sirius’ equally drunken body in the common room just before she introduced herself to Remus as Aquila, it had looked like kissing. 

“It was kissing,” she had said while dragging them up to his dorm room. “She’s been cheating on you for ages.”

Remus crinkled his nose, stumbling into the dormitory staircase wall with the force of his entire body. He clutched onto the handrail with both of his fists, facing it, steadying himself. Blurs of yellow hues danced against the wall as if Remus was underwater, watching the waves undulate above him. His knuckles were white and a frown mark was etched so deeply in his forehead it was almost permanent. “She’s really… she’s really been cheating on me?” Suddenly, his knees buckled, bumping into the wall in front of him and Aquila had to hold Remus’ sides up with both hands to make him stand once more.

Taking advantage of the position, she leaned in from behind, slithering her hands down further to his hips and whispering into Remus’ ear, “Of course she has been. Because she’s scum. Uncultured scum that can only see obvious, over exaggerated sexiness. The kind that drowns out easily. But you… you’re so much more. I can prove it to you. You can prove it to her. Show her you can get anyone you want and fuck me, Remus. You know you want to. You know it’s what’s right.” 

“She doesn’t think I’m sexy?” Remus asked, tone broken, stomach churning with more than just alcohols’ influence.

“Of course not. If she did, would she be fucking Sirius?”

If Remus wasn’t drunk, he might have been able to construct some sly remark to that, drenched with the kind of sarcasm that makes people stumble over their replies. But Remus was so drunk he still had to hold onto the handrails to steady himself, so drunk he only saw faded shapes, so drunk he didn’t think he was shit in comparison to Sirius or anyone or everyone else, so drunk he believed Aquila’s words, so drunk he could only nod to show his understanding. Not drunk enough he couldn’t feel the twinge his heart at the thought of Y/N with someone else. Touching, kissing, biting, moaning.

Thus Remus’ knees buckled once more, caps butting against the wall, upper body hunched. Fingers dug even deeper in his sides, steadying him. “Maybe it’s time to head to the bedroom, yeah?” she asked. Remus agreed.

And now, less than a half an hour later, they were in his bed, undressed, so close to sex Remus could taste it in the air, among the stench of alcohol reverberating from his sweating skin. He couldn’t think but could feel her against him, rolling plastic around his skin before, before—

Remus woke with a start, with a rush in his spine so harsh it made him sit up completely, shoving his thin bed sheets to his feet. It was only after he attached his quivering hand against the base of his neck that Remus realized he had been sweating in his sleep, thick beads of it sticky against his fingertips. His breathing was heavy yet shallow, rattling his bones but always lacking. Around him the room was covered in a thick layer of darkness and shadows; Remus had even beaten the sun awake, he noticed, as no peeking of sunlight was making its way through the cracks of the heavy curtains. 

After a droning few minutes Remus’ heartbeat had settled. But his skin still shuttered, stomach burning underneath his hunched-over chest. He went for his sheets, clutched them and forcefully dragged them up to his chin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to cease his shivering—after a good week of waking up like this, he knew the routine quite well—but it didn’t stop Remus from hoping, hoping in the same way he had yet to give up on Y/N taking him back. Even though he understood why she wouldn’t, couldn’t blame her for slamming the door in a way that resonated with him through his nightmares.

Going back to sleep was futile, despite the fact Remus felt as though he had not rested at all. Dark circles were now a permanent fixture around his reddened eyes. But he knew if he dare close them again the visions would come flooding back like torturous ghosts on the prowl for his sanity, stopping at nothing to claw their way to it and steal it with no return in mind.

So Remus huffed to the ceiling, laying flat on his back. He was cold and on the verge of tears and his skin missed Y/N’s, ached for the soft touch of it warm against his. Remus would admit to everything and more, take every ounce of blame he knew he deserved if he could just feel Y/N’s presence next to his once more. Her body. Fingers, palms, lips, cheeks, anything, everything. 

An hour later Remus was still awake, so watched the sunrise paint a patch of flooring pink, heard the faint whistling of morning birds which flew around the dormitory tower. Half of him had the urge to tear open the curtains and use blaring sunlight to wake the lads so he could escape his mind. The other half of him, the one that found it difficult to speak and stand upright, the one who James was concerned wasn’t eating enough, forced Remus to stay. 

For another two hours he wallowed in the memory of Y/N’s face, so wet with tears and twisted in pain, feeling his heart scream with every violent pound into his chest. It made Remus wonder if staying awake was that much better than being thrashed from sleep by nightmares.

When the day finally began it began like any other. After the first few days of Remus waking up in the middle of the night, sweating yet shivering, Peter and James—but never Sirius, which left Remus feeling worse than before he was given emotional assistance—had mostly given up on trying to help. At first they took shifts, hour long windows in which one of them was assigned to stay awake and distract Remus with conversation. But he was reluctant to speak about anything other than the incident, so sneered his teeth one day and said, “If you’re not going to let me talk about the one important thing in my life, don’t fucking speak to me at all.” Now all he got was the occasional demand from James to eat a second helping at mealtimes, as if he was a sick child.

It happened again that morning: “Moony, won’t you take another sausage? Just eat one more bite.” He growled into his fork, the simple action almost winding him.

Noticing the abnormality, Peter looked to him, full of concern. “When did you wake up?” he asked.

“About an hour before sunrise, I reckon,” Remus replied, casually going back to slicing the sausage, hating how two sets of eyes were now blaring into him. The trembling of his fingertips around his silverware did little to help his case of functioning fine despite lack of sleep.

Hands were on his suddenly, fingers gripping his, steadying them. Remus looked up to find James, wearing an apologetic smile that contradicted his firm voice while saying, “You need to go lay down.”

“No,” Remus snapped. “I need to go find Y/N and apologize.” 

As soon as he was dropping his fork and knife and attempting to stand, there were hands around his arms and wrists, pulling him back down to the bench strongly. “You really think she’s going to magically want to talk to you today?” Peter asked argumentatively. “She hasn’t spoken to you for almost an entire week!”

“Why have you guys been, then?” It came out as a challenge when it was an honest question, even a fear of Remus’. If both of them, friends of Y/N who respected her worth, decided to leave, like Sirius did so mysteriously but with painful obviousness…

“We had a discussion,” James announced, lacing his fingers together, sitting up with very poised uncharacteristic posture. Remus’ mouth hung open, scanning Peter’s face for affirmation, which was found in the sheepish glance he gave Remus. “We decided that even though we’re positively pissed at you for treating Y/N that way, we still love you, and would hate to see you probably die if all of us were to leave at once. Especially with Sirius, uh, being quiet.”

Remus scoffed. “Just say he’s ignoring me, too. I can handle it.” The broken sadness in his tone was so obvious, Remus quickly added a Even though I don’t know why he is.” In a disorganized clatter Remus dropped his silverware onto his place, no longer finding his misshapen chunks of sausage appealing. As if he ever did.

“Remus,” James said with soft reprimand, trying to control the uncontrollable, smother the fire that had singed every aspect of Remus’ life for the past few days. He said it like there was more, as if it were a beginning to a sentence full of warnings Remus had already heard, but before James could continue ringed fingers reached out in Remus’ line of sight, wrapping around a Cornish pasty.

His glance hurried up the attached arm, to his neck and then Sirius’ face, holding eyes that were looking everywhere except Remus’ withering body. Sirius had typically grumbled excuses then, like “I’ve got a detention to serve,” or “Regulus wants to hang out,” leaving the three of them rapidly after smuggling food. But, this time, there was no movement of Sirius’ mouth after he grabbed the pasty, no words of obvious lies Remus’ heart still believed were true to coax his sanity.

“Sirius, wait,” Remus said, watching him turn on his heels and leave regardless. “Sirius.” He was already halfway to the door and Remus wondered if he could feel Remus’ eyes on him, hear his voice becoming more and more desperate or the loud stomp Remus’ feet made once hitting the floor and beginning to walk briskly towards him. Remus felt his shoulders jab others as he slid through the Great Hall, calling Sirius’ name all the while. But it was just under his breath, as if reminding himself of what he was doing, who he was chasing after. What he was trying to save. 

It was just outside the grand wooden doors that Remus caught up to Sirius, a firm grip on Sirius’ leather jacketed arm forcing him to turn and face Remus. He almost looked bored at Remus’ struggle; Remus almost looked heartbroken at Sirius’ disinterest.

“Listen,” Remus said, slightly out of breath but not knowing why. “I get what I did to Y/N was wrong, okay? I understand. And I know you are one of her best friends and have a right to be mad at me for cheating on her. But, mate, you won’t even look me in the eye.” Remus released his grasp on Sirius even though he was afraid he might run away once more.

But he didn’t; instead, Sirius let out a dark and forceful chuckle, the kind that jolts the body. “You think this is just about Y/N, don’t you?” There was a madness in his eyes that caused Remus’ throat to clench up.

Remus was still able to get out a small, “yeah,” gulp and all.

“You’re unbelievable,” Sirius shouted, shaking his head, hair whipping and arms flying down to his sides in frustration. “Remus, it takes two people to cheat. When you thought Y/N and I were fucking, did it ever cross your mind that it would mean I was willingly having sex with your girlfriend? What that says about how much you trust me? How much you don’t?”

Part of Remus broke at the fog being cleared to expose something as devastating as mistrust, the concept of Sirius up late contemplating if Remus thought they were still even friends. But the larger part of him, the one filled with anger, controlled his twitching mouth, his hands that flew up into his hair and tugged at the roots of them.

“Sirius, you don’t understand. I never even considered you as some grand betrayer or whatever dramatic bullshit you want to pull.”

“Then what did you think?” he screamed, blaring eyes now ceasing to leave Remus’. “I was fucking her as some kind of platonic favor or something? That I’d ever do that to you?”

Remus screamed, and first years making their way to breakfast ran instead of walked, chandeliers rattled overhead. Sirius didn’t flinch, stared him down dauntingly. “Do you remember what you asked me? If I thought this was just about Y/N and I said ‘yes’? Sirius, I wasn’t even thinking about the fact it was you that Y/N was cheating on me with. It was the fact Y/N was kissing someone that wasn’t me,”—Remus pointed three fingers into his chest— “that I couldn’t handle. It could have been anyone. It wasn’t about what you were doing, it was that Y/N was fucking someone else and that meant I wasn’t good enough. That’s what she made it seem like, at least. Aquila—”

“Yes?” a voice asked, soft like a whisper, and Remus and Sirius both turned with balled fists to the smug Aquila, standing close by as if nothing ever happened. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Liar,” Sirius scoffed, and Remus almost wanted to smile at the truth in that. 

She shot a warning glance at Sirius, one that was so quick Remus almost didn’t notice it, then proceeded to approach Remus with gliding strides, taking her time. Selfish. Always so selfish.

Remus didn’t let his anger subside, practically growling, “What do you want?” at a low volume while looking at her with a stare resentful enough to break buildings and set forests on fire.

Aquila came up to him so closely his skin shuddered with the ghost of her touch, remembering it, loathing the recollection. Remus turned his head away to emphasize his discomfort but it merely showed off the scene to Sirius with greater visibility, the leaning in of Aquila’s lips close to Remus’ ear, close enough for it to have seemed like an intimate whisper but said so loudly it was obvious the proximity was just for show. Just to get Remus’ breath hitching and mind racing. Her breath was hot against his ear, so unwelcomingly familiar as she said, “I think I left my panties in your room.” 

With words so meaningfully careless after witnessing a screaming match between friends desperate to prove their loyalty, a smirk so heavy Remus knew it was on her face though he was turned away, so heavy he could hear it in her voice, Remus knew everything was purposeful. The strides that brought her here, long just so she could relish in the tension she created. Revel in the aftermaths of her storm: lost loves, torn-apart friendships, an already broken man now shattered completely, as if Remus hadn’t hated himself before all of this had began. 

Remus looked at her, his jaw clenched, hers lifted in a sugar-coated smile. He backed away one step. It wasn’t enough. With deep breaths between each word he asked, ammunition underneath his tongue all the while, just waiting to explode, “Did you really think Y/N and Sirius were fucking?”

The smirk returned, crawling up her lips. Taking her time, always. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

“So you just lied?” Aquila was already nodding slowly as Remus continued, “You just lied the entire time?”

She was still nodding, smirking while her teeth bit her bottom lip, and Remus was stuck looking at her for a moment, in everything except adoration. Her red horns revealed after the fog had cleared, causing revelation to hang heavy in the air and suck the life out of Remus. Remus, whose eyes were wide and head was beginning to spin with the dizzying truths of dishonesty and manipulation and treachery and his mistakes, his acts of righteousness, his naivety. The overwhelming vision of Y/N’s face as she walked in on the morning kiss Aquila had forced onto Remus’ mouth, her skin in lifeless disbelief. The inadequate words Remus had mumbled, trying to explain himself but failing because she left after saying she loved him still. Even though she loved him still. The door slamming behind her. The nightmares, the pre-sunrise mornings and late nights, the lack of food and dark rings and his scorching throat and screaming heartbeat.

Suddenly, Remus’ world turned sideways as his jaw slacked and eyes closed, face hitting the cold stone floor of the corridor and everything faded into black.


	3. Upwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trying to avoid Remus as adamantly as possible, you find the task increasingly difficult as Sirius approaches you with concerning news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y/N's POV

A stream of leaves bellowed through the crisp morning air, circling the roof of the Astronomy Tower, their golden hues only accentuated by the morning sunlight which glowed against their veiny sides. You watched them, entranced yet distracted, as they blew out towards the sky, fading into small dots on the crystal-clear blueness above the peaking roofs of Hogwarts Castle. Those tiles, that skyline, the warm blurriness surrounding the sun, all unusual beauties you admired while ignoring the textbook that laid open atop your lap. 

Though the thick smell of Autumn and warm weather undeniably made for a perfect morning to study outside—the amount of students you saw sitting in the courtyards while ascending to the Astronomy Tower was proof of this—you opted for a different location, not to avoid those crowds but the looming memories of study dates with Remus under the tall trees. You didn’t even dare try the Library again; while it was usually a place of comfort, going there the day after you caught Remus was enough to almost deteriorate you into the violent sobs of a breakdown. Everything about the Library—the background sounds of rustling paper and turning pages, how the rays of sunlight became dusty after peeking through the windows, how everyone spoke in gentle murmurs and coy whispers—was redolent of Remus. With your mind scorched with the memory of his pouty lips frowning, remnants of lipstick still fresh on his skin, any other reminder of him was too much. 

Thus, you had attempted to find a place not haunted by his presence, that didn’t make your ears ache with the reminiscing of his laughter or your mouth burn with the memory of his kiss. Your feet had lead you here before your mind had put two and two together: the full visibility of the sky and Remus’ distaste for this rooftop. If the full moon had shown itself with the same bluntness the sun was displayed with now, you had no doubt in your mind that was why Remus had avoided this place. 

It didn’t help. As the leaves dissipated into invisible specks, your mind was still focused on the relentless pain in your chest convulsed with. Her body on top of his, and probably underneath the previous night, joined in the way you always thought Remus reserved for you. Did he kiss her with the same tenderness turned into heat? Whisper words into her mouth? Hold her by her cheeks, caressing the arches of them with his calloused thumbs? Did he groan out the same praises, pet names and profanities? Did he take his time with her, make her feel special, promising that all the while?

Did he love her? 

With anger and desperation you slammed the textbook shut with a flattened palm. However, realizing that was the only true distraction you had—watching the leaves blow by in Remus’ least favorite location somehow still molded him into your mind—you blew out a breath and opened it again. You mouthed every word, trailed under the text with your fingertip, desperately trying to absorb course content that you weren’t to learn for months (in the mix of pain and boredom that manifested after you left, you had found textbooks the only successful distraction, causing you to stumble into yet-to-be-covered topics).

It was in the middle of a sentence about the source of Dementors that a loud bang sounded behind you, making your finger slip from your sentence and your head turn to the door. 

“Sirius?” you questioned as his head spun around, eyes finally landing on yours. He had stopped under the door frame, arm still holding open the wooden board open, but upon spotting you let go and fled to your side in a sprint.

Once Sirius got to you, breathless with wildness in his eyes, he grabbed your wrist and pulled it. “Come on. We need to go.” Suddenly, your textbook was flying into your open book bag and he lifted you up before slinging it over his shoulders. While approaching the door Sirius charmed it open and you ran right through the empty space, in an obvious rush for an unknown reason.

“Sirius, what—” you began your question at the top of the staircase, but it got cut short as he began taking the stairs two at a time, his strong grip on your wrist making you trip slightly in unreadiness. “Sirius?” No response. “Sirius.”

“Yes?” he finally responded, annoyance in his voice sharp and clear. You rolled your eyes, though he was facing the staircase—he was leaping down it too quickly to do otherwise—and would never see it.

Heavy breath and anger were both heavy in your reply of, “What the hell is going on?”

By that point, you had reached the bottom of the spiraled steps, and Sirius faced you for the first time since seeing you on the roof, eyes soft but jaw clenched. His hand was running through his hair, part of you thinking he was going through the motion simply to give himself something to do while catching his breath, but his glances kept straying between you and the empty corridor, suggesting an undertone of nervousness.

Something clicked inside of you and you asked, softly, expectantly, “Is it about Remus?” 

He smiled hopefully, causing you to groan and fight for your wrist freedom from his fingers. “It’s not what you think,” he said. “You know I’ve been ignoring him, too. He fainted about ten minutes ago while talking to Aquila. He’s in the Hospital Wing and Y/N, he’s unconscious.”

Though you were still unable to think about Remus without clenching your teeth and your chest singed with dry and hot disgust at the mention of Aquila’s name, the thought he would still talk to her, suddenly you were the one dragging Sirius by the wrist over to the Hospital Wing. It felt too far away, though you were running with such intense speed the sound of your feet echoed around the corridor incessantly, you thought you would never reach there in time. 

In time for what, though? To arrive before Aquila did, so you could sit there with the same smirk she wore when you opened the door to her kissing Remus? To arrive before Madam Pomfrey diagnosed him, as if James or Peter wouldn’t retell it to you, some part of you dying for people to see you back by his side? To arrive before Remus woke, so you had a moment to ponder how it felt to look at his face without lipstick marks, stroke his hand without him realizing, so you in turn could realize how you felt?

You didn’t have time to understand the reason behind the burning fire under your feet before it brought you the Hospital Wing, then across the room to where James and Peter sat alongside Remus’ reclined body. Your eyes narrowed and knees went weak, a sudden flooding of emotion causing you to clutch his limp hand in both of yours, full of life and a thumping heartbeat.

Even though your head was turned, you automatically recognized the voice that sounded behind you as Madam Pomfrey’s as she began, “Gentlemen, it seems—oh, excuse me.” Her sudden self-interruption caused you to turn towards her, seeing behind a slightly clouded vision that her arms held a platter of food and Pumpkin Juice while her face wore a presumptuously tender concern. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, Ms. Y/L/N,” Madame Pomfrey continued, glancing at your hands. 

Immediately you dropped his hand from yours, smiling at her thinly. “There’s nothing to interrupt,” you said, feeling like you were lying and hating the dryness which closed up your throat in response.

“I see.” She cleared her throat, as if expecting it to clear the tension now taught in the air, but it doing nothing to affect it. “It seems that Mr. Lupin is suffering from unconsciousness from a combination of a harsh pressure on the skull, heart palpitations, extreme malnutrition and lack of sleep. So, whenever he wakes, please make sure he eats this. A simple heating charm should do the trick.” 

“But what if he doesn’t wake up for days?” James asked as Madame Pomfrey began walking towards Remus’ bedside table to set the tray down. You let your eyes leave her and settle on James, instead, finding him chewing on his bottom lip with nervous ferocity.

“He will be fine, Mr. Potter. Though the landing on the tile flooring wasn’t ideal, his head injury is nothing to worry about. I put a charm on it to help decrease further bone bruising or swelling of nearby tissues. That, paired with the fact Mr. Black,”—her eyes shot towards Sirius, who was unphased by his name being called, too busy hanging onto her every word— “was able to bring Mr. Lupin so soon after the accident occured will ensure for a safe and speedy recovery, I am certain. I expect him to be up in just a few hours.”

But it was far from speedy or just a few hours; no sign of movement had been given as you and the three solemn Marauders watched the daytime sunshine fade into the dark orange of dusk and your heart never ceased in its fast-paced beating. James and Peter set out for food, running out of the Hospital Wing with a similar frenzy with which you and Sirius had entered, realizing dinner hours were ending much sooner than the four of you had considered, too busy watching over Remus to care about. Sirius had pulled a chair up next to James’ while you still remained the only visitor on Remus’ right side, your hand finding his quickly after Madam Pomfrey’s comment and not having let it go since. 

“So you’ve been ignoring Remus, too?” you ask Sirius from across the bed frame.

Sirius’ glance drifted up to you from the previous position of blankly staring at floor tiling. He gave you a nervous smile before saying, “Yeah,” but then pausing, letting the word sink through him and undulate his skeleton uncomfortably. Sirius cleared his throat before admitting, “I don’t think I’m going to any longer, though.”

Your head tilted slightly while asking, “Why?” 

Suddenly, Sirius’ glance wavered again, a sort of shyness glazing over him. “He ran after me this morning at breakfast. I’ve been ignoring him since that night, but apparently, it wasn’t obvious why, so he ran after me to try and figure things out. Basically, I thought Remus was being dense, quite dense for such a bright bloke, because he never realized by assuming I would sleep with you that it sent the message that he didn’t trust me.”

“Sirius,” you whispered tenderly and he nodded, as if understanding the empathetic grief that flushed through your body.

“I know, I know,” he grumbled. “Remus said I was wrong, too, and that he didn’t even think about the fact it was me cheating with you, but you cheating at all that sent him through the roof. The thought of you and anyone else at all.”

And then it was your glance shifting, lowering down to watch as your fingers absentmindedly ran through his unmoving ones, entirely on their own accord and with a familiarity so potent it felt awkward to be looking down on them, reflecting on their movements. “Did he tell you why he did it, then?” you asked.

“All he got out was that Aquila used you cheating on him as a way to make him feel worse about himself. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and it seems to me like the beginnings of a manipulation tactic. Like she was using his lack of self-esteem as a point to bounce off of, a reason to have sex, because he could raise it if he proved he was good in bed.”

“I thought I had proved that already,” you scoffed with a sudden urge to drop his hand once more.

“Y/N, please, it’s more than that,” Sirius promised, urgency weighing down his voice. “She admitted to having known that you and I weren’t cheating on each other at all, yet proceeded to lie to Remus about it to get into his pants. It had to be part of her reasoning.” You looked away from him, shaking your head in disbelief and disinterest. “No, hear me out. You know how self-conscious Moony gets when he drinks. He reeks of alcohol and self-loathing. Now imagine Aquila, seeing this, using something as beautifully simple as his best friend cheating on him with his girlfriend to take him over the edge just enough—”

“You’re babbling, Sirius,” you scolded.

He huffed and crossed his jacketed arms over his chest. “I’m right. You just have to talk to Aquila and you’ll know this wasn’t something Remus did in his right mind. He was manipulated and drunk.” 

“Well she can come to me. I don’t have any incentive to speak to her.”

“No incentive!” Sirius shouted, raising his voice for the first time in the conversation, shaking you slightly from the shock. “Don’t you want to get back together with Remus? James told me that you told him you still loved him. Was that just a lie to let him down easy?”

“No.” It came out as an accident, an reflex, and impulse. It was true, of course; how could you not love Remus? Especially with his laughter and kisses and the way he smiled with a subtle crookedness that accentuated the small scar next to the corner of his lip all as fresh in your mind as his bundled-up shirt riddled with the ghost of Aquila’s fingertips. Every reason to leave had a reason to stay and you had loved him so harshly, so deeply, so purely, it had become a part of you. He had become a part of you, who you were and who you hoped to become. 

You ran your teeth over your bottom lip at a loss for words. “It’s… difficult,” you explained, failing, feeling it inwardly and not due solely to Sirius’ cocked brows. “Of course I love him. He’s… he’s everything to me, Sirius. I don’t even think it’s about how I feel but about what I’m afraid to feel.”

Sirius spoke up then. “What do you mean?”

“If I forgive him, the next time we go to have sex, what if I can’t because it’s all there? If I try to kiss him, what if all I taste is Aquila instead? And how could I let him drink again? I don’t want to hold him back, Sirius. I don’t want to be selfish. But what if he’s joking around with another girl and they get close and… I just don’t know if I forgive him, if that means I could trust him. If that means I could ever get over what he did to me.”

And, of course, it was right then when an unfairly loud Peter and James came flying into the room, carrying too much energy and plates of food that smells heavenly. “Here you go, love,” James said as he slid the plate onto your lap, complete with cutlery and all. 

You adjusted your legs slightly, still clutching Remus’ hand with your non-dominant hand, and attempted at eating with only a fork and no pressure from your other side to balance the plate out. 

“Y/N, just drop his hand,” Peter said. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Childishly you responded, “But what if I don’t want to.”

Peter blew out a breath. “You do. You don’t want to end up like Remus here, all malnutritioned from not being able to eat after you left.”

The small forkful of peas you had just placed into your mouth almost fell out at the confession. With wide eyes you watched as Peter’s turned unblinking in panic, James hitting him with your textbook—when James had removed that from your bag was beyond you—in the arm loud enough to entice a small yelp from Peter. “God, I’m sorry, I forgot we weren’t supposed to say anything,” he said.

“Is it true?” you asked, feeling dizzy suddenly, like you might drop the plate of food. “Did Remus really not eat because of me?”

James and Peter looked back and forth and back and forth at one another, Peter sheepishly and James inquisitively, before James turned and looked at you. His eyes were uncharacteristically calm. “Remus really struggled with eating and sleeping enough after you left. His appetite was shot and he kept having nightmares that woke him up at like four in the morning—all sweaty, too— and he rarely fell asleep once woken up.”

“We tried to help, honest,” Peter added in. “Though James was able to sometimes get Remus to eat a little more, after the first night or so of staying up with him, Remus obviously didn’t want our company. It seemed like he felt guilty about keeping us up, too.”

Before your widened mouth had time to formulate an answer, James continued. “By the way, you should probably head off to sleep now, Y/N. It’s getting late and Remus would probably hate it if you stayed up for him.”

“You really think I care about what Remus thinks after he cheated on me?” you spat. “If I want to stay here and keep him company and hold his hand, I think I am more than entitled to. If I want to skip lessons and meals to make sure I’m here when he wakes up, I think I should be allowed to. I’ve had to put up with so much shit for this past week I really, really think I deserve to do what I want.”

And while James and Sirius sat back in their chairs as if to escape without really escaping, breaths being held all the while, Peter had the audacity to laugh with excruciating loudness. He laughed with his head tilting backwards, slapping his knee it overtook him so vivaciously. Then, when he finally calmed down after you accusatory screams of, “what?” he apologized.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breath still shallow, “but, Merlin, you and Remus are made for one another. You know what he said to James after James told him he needed to lie down? He said, and I quote, ‘No, I need to go find Y/N and apologize.’ I swear you two are going to run yourselves into the ground from loving each other so much.”

“Well, he already did,” Sirius pointed out coyly, causing he, James, and Peter to burst out in fits of laughter, full-bodied and warm. Even you managed a smile that had teeth instead of just lips pressed firmly against one another, and a layer of tension lifted from the sterile Hospital Wing air.

Once the laughter died, a silence followed, one that politely asked you for the next word; never begging, just coaxing. You exhaled and the air you breathed in seemed fuller. You squeezed Remus’ hand, feeling his pale knuckles dig into the gaps between yours, a sensation you had felt an uncountable number of times but you still craved it. Craved this all: his hand in yours, skin touching, his jokes being whispered to you in class and scribbled in ungodly handwriting across scraps of parchment. For the question had never been if you still loved him, but if he still loved you.

So you asked, behind a facade that was unnecessary in front of best friends, “He really said that? Did that?” James and Peter nodded simultaneously, and Sirius looked like he desperately wanted to agree, but couldn’t. “He still loves me?” It was quiet and uneven and broken and beautiful, that kind of honesty, blazing bright in the dimness and darkness of the Hospital Wing.

“Look at him,” Sirius said. You obliged, finally sinking your eyes into that face and found yourself slightly forcing the image of Aquila’s lipstick onto his lips this time. But it was faded, so beautifully faded in your mind.

Despite the realization, a frown set itself across your face. “I thought he had stopped,” you admitted. “I thought he stopped loving me. It was the only thing that made sense.”

“Are you kidding? That’s the only thing that made him cheat on you.”

It was said by a voice you had only heard once but had burned itself into your memory forever with aggressive apologeticness and selfish intention. You turned your tucked down head to find Aquila standing there, smirking as if it’s all her lips knew how to do—you thought it was, but dared not ask, expecting a barrage of sexual innuendos as a response—holding her wand up in a Lumos Maxima. “It’s after curfew, you know,” she mentioned casually. “I can call Dumbledore here and have all of you expelled.”

“Yeah, like tending to an unconscious friend is an expellable offense,” James scoffed.

Somehow, her simper only became more evil as she asked, “Wanna find out?”

“Merlin’s sake Aquila, do you really think we give a fuck?” You didn’t know where you found the energy to stand, pushing your plate of food to the side and leaving Remus’ hand unattended to for the first time in hours. You also didn’t know where you found the energy to scream, either, scream so vehemently your lungs burned and your throat felt dry and you stomped your foot but you didn’t care, not in the slightest. “Remus is unconscious with a serious head wound and some of us actually care about his well-being! Enough to get expelled for it, if that is the consequence!”

She stepped forwards with an airiness in her walk, but also a slinkiness to it. It reeked of evil, the kind that bubbles right under the surface of sugary sweet nothings. “It’s so sweet that you care about someone that so recently cheated on you. Truly adorable. I wish I could have that same lack of self-worth, you know? Just be able to put everyone first and not give a fuck about how I feel. But I guess I’m one of the few afflicted with dignity, unfortunately.”

And then so much happened at once: the pieces in your mind began moulding together, as if they were all individual frames part of one moving image, the image of how that night happened. At first you had assumed it was full of enthusiastic agreement, moans of pleasure mixed with the inescapable thrill of doing something wrong. But then Remus apologized, adding in a frame of doubt and worry. Then Sirius opened up, contributing manipulation to the scene. And Aquila spoke, full of a coy tone and fake self-loathing that only comes with the mind of someone obsessed with destroying and never paying the price, making it all smooth over into one continuous flow of Remus’ self-loathing being taken advantage of. Aquila always spoke all the right words, making you wonder if she ever heard them in return. That, with the faint wand light streaming in from the hallway, exposing the outline of a frame so distinctly belonging to a quiet Professor McGonagall, gave you an idea. 

Pushing down the desire to smirk in return, you forced yourself to frown your lips and put shakiness into your voice. “So would you just leave?” you asked.

“Of course,” she responded. “Give him to the next fool who fell for him.” Aquila was putting on a clever fight, you realized, one filled with fake grief and advice that would lead to her holding Remus’ hand, instead, being the one to kiss him when he woke. But you felt confident in the shiver you forced to run through your body as you fought back.

“But I love him! And you admitted he loves me back. So why shouldn’t I forgive him? He just gets so self-conscious when he drinks and… and I can’t blame him for that, can I?”

“You can when it makes it so easy to fool him into cheating on you. You should have seen him, Y/N. All it took was me lying about you fucking Sirius and it took him no time at all to agree to my pleads of showing him how he truly deserves to get fucked. To prove to you that he deserves to be treated that way. Trust me,” she broke her words off to laugh darkly, and you didn’t have to act out the goose-bumps that it formed all over your skin, “it was easy to make him agree.”

For good measure, you looked at the floor, making your breathing heavier. “I just, I can’t believe… he really said yes?”

“Well he didn’t say no.”

And suddenly all of the candles in the Hospital Wing were bright with sharp light, causing everyone’s eyes to squint, before Aquila smartly turned around to see a smug Professor McGonagall at the door. “Ms. Loma,” she said, her voice as even and professional as always, “Not only are you wandering the Halls after curfew, but you have just admitted to having sexual encounters with a man who never properly consented. Such acts on our school grounds are expellable, and I personally plan to take you to see our Headmaster at once to see if he agrees that such action should take place immediately.” 

“But… but…” Though you had only seen her once before this, you could tell Aquila wasn’t used to being caught off guard like this, with wide eyes and the beginning of a quiver on her still makeuped lips. So you revelled in it as McGonagall approached her stagnant body, stiff with shock like rigor mortis. She still screamed, however: “You don’t know the whole story!” and “You’re just agreeing with Y/N because she’s good at Transfiguration” and “Remus enjoyed it” all excuses that came out of her mouth that were shot down by McGonagall with expert wit.

“Now, Mr. Potter, Mr. Pettigrew, Mr. Black, and Ms. Y/L/N,” McGonagall said, “I advise you all get to your dormitories immediately. You may visit Mr. Lupin in the morning. Because you are not causing any havoc, I will not punish you for being out after curfew, as more pressing matters are at hand.” She turned to lead a still-struggling Aquila to Dumbledore’s office only after giving the four of you a small smile, suggesting a playful favoritism in its delivery, before dimming the lights once more and leaving the Hospital Wing.

You looked back behind you, not realizing you had strayed so far from Remus’ bed until you realized you could watch the entire scene unfold: the three boys begrudgingly getting up, groaning all the while, stretching arms and shaking legs and grabbing your bag to slip the textbook inside. “We’re really going to leave?”

“We are,” James replied. “You, however, get to stay.” He approached you then, handing you a neatly folded piece of fabric—probably the only thing James kept so tidy—that you knew to be the Invisibility Cloak before it even reached your fingertips. You looked down at your hands once they held it, suddenly feeling heavy from the weight of James’ most prized possession being in them, and opened your mouth in a doubtful protest that James ended before it began. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll take the passageways. Just… just make sure he is alright, okay?”

And maybe it wasn’t James’ most prized possession which were placed atop your palms. Maybe it was split between the two boys that stood behind him, nodding solemnly but with trust, and the one whose slowed heart rate and outstretched body lay unconscious and caused the frown lines that were etched deeply in his forehead. Simply and softly, James leaned down to yours and kissed it goodnight, followed by Sirius and Peter. Before you knew it you were alone in the dim quietness and chill of the Hospital Wing, no one except Remus nearby.

Not knowing what else to do, you sat next to him again, letting the Invisibility Cloak slide onto your lap and your hands entangle into Remus’ once more. You didn’t have enough time to tell Sirius that he was right in every way possible, praying the small look of apologetic understanding you gave him after he pressed his lips against your forehead was enough. Even if you had, you weren’t even sure if words would come out, your throat so closed maybe none could squeeze through the dry surface of it. So you gulped down, embarrassed, as if there was anyone there to notice your guilt, deep-rooted and fair in its development but so cruel in its manifestation. Could you hate the guilt, knowing Remus was the only one who cheated, even if he did love you through every treacherous touch? Was it fair to yourself to feel guilty for thinking Remus cheating on you was a choice rather than a trap? But it wasn’t. And he loved you, loved you to the point of complete shutdown once you left. But was it enough?

You let the question swirl in your mind as the Saturday sun began rising, peachy hues radiating in through the arched windows. A few times you had drifted off, face pressed against your hand pressed against Remus’, but you shook yourself awake after a few minutes each time. You could feel yourself falling back into sleep’s grasp, the warm radiance from the window too comforting to fight against, and you were slipping, slipping, slipping, until a small groan from beside you shook you awake.

“Remus?” you whispered, involuntarily tightening your grip around his hands. You watched, sleep completely gone from your reddened eyes as Remus’ body began to shift, his head falling to the side, mumbling incoherently. “Remus?” 

After quivering slightly, his eyelids finally lifted with an apparent heaviness. Your heart had risen to your throat, heartbeat pounding in a deep rhythm both alongside and in unison with your pulse point. You hadn’t realized how much you missed something as simple as looking at his eyes, hazy and hazel, or hearing the sound of his voice after just waking, rough yet plush with sleep, as he muttered your name softly.

A wide smile rushed across your face as you saw his lips grinning, too, and you squeezed his hand, loving the response he gave back, the gentle pulse your fingers felt from his. You wanted to say so much but instead found yourself laughing smally, joy overtaking you, warming you more than that dull and dusty sunlight ever could. 

“Why are you laughing?” he smirked. Though it was lazy from fatigue it remained just as playfully as always and your heart fluttered. 

“I’m just so relieved you are alright,” you admitted. “Even though Madame Pomfrey said you’d wake up, you know, I always expect the worst to happen. You haven’t moved in hours and I was really beginning to doubt her. So I’m just… I’m really happy, honestly. I’m so happy you’re awake again.” 

“So I fell unconscious, right?” Remus asked with narrowed eyes as you nodded far too enthusiastically. “I kind of forgot. It all happened so fast. I just kind of fell down after talking to her and—” Suddenly, he had stopped talking, and you knew why even though her name was never spoken, only referenced, and Remus gulped his throat.

“I know you talked to her. Sirius told me all about it. I talked to her, too, and I can see how she was manipulative. Luckily McGonagall came in here and took her straight to Dumbledore’s office.”

“What?” Remus nearly screamed it, his eyes wide, causing you to chuckle.

“Yeah. I kind of, um, got her to confess everything in front of McGonagall. By the looks of it, Aquila is going to be expelled as soon as possible.” Though you were proud of yourself for it before, nothing compared the stroke of pride you felt as Remus smiled brightly and widely at you with the force of the sun.

But then he frowned again, eyes going from yours to the empty beds that littered the Hospital Wing. “If she confessed everything, does that mean,”—he looked at you now, again, eyes overflowing with something you couldn’t quite put a name to; desperation, hope, love, vulnerability, pessimism— “Do you forgive me?”

Your breath was high in your throat, suffocatingly so. “I,” you looked at him and your heart was squeezing and aching and bursting and soaring and doing everything it could at once, as confused as your mind. So you breathed out honestly: “I don’t know, Remus. But you just woke up. I don’t think it’s a great time to have this conversation.”

“Because you’re going to dump me again,” he grumbled, turning onto his cheek to avoid your eyes.

“No,” you spat. “Because I expect you’re tired and probably won’t say everything the way you mean to.”

Suddenly he turned his face back towards you, clutching your hands with more aggression than before, as if afraid they would slip from his at any moment, as if he didn’t want them to. “Then you talk,” he suggested. “You already know I love you so much, how sorry I am, everything that Aquila did. I can’t fuck anything up further if I just listen.” Then, with a quieter tone, he added, “And I want to know what’s been going on inside your head. I’ve never been so distant from you. I miss you.” 

“I miss you, too,” you admitted. “It’s like, no matter how far away I got from where we used to hang out, you were always in my mind, you know?” As if you hadn’t been dating for years, Remus blushed slightly, turning as pink as the dawn sky outside. “Because I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you before leaving that morning. Because I did then and I still do. And I know that Aquila took advantage of you being so self-deprecatory when you drink, and she said you never formally agreed. I think I’m starting to forgive you I’m just terrified, Remus. Because I want to take you back and I love you so much, but what if I try to kiss you and I can’t because she did? Or we can’t have sex anymore because I just can’t get you guys out of my mind? What if I get super jealous when you are around other women? I’m just not sure if I want to go back into a relationship if it already has all of these horrible possibilities.”

You took a breath, then another, and another, yet felt lightheaded. Out of air. Like you needed to be in one of the hospital beds. In the pause, Remus spoke. “I know I’m not supposed to talk, but can I ask you something?” You nodded while biting down on your lip. “Do you trust me?”

Agreement was an instinct so your mouth opened to do so but no words came out, the dry spell which occurred causing shivers up your arms because you knew why it had happened: your trust had faded.

“No,” you answered, looking down at your hands, still holding his. His thumb caressed the back of your palm and it felt right, still. Felt like where you belonged. It was quiet except for Remus’ resounding breaths so you kept looking, admiring, considering.

“Do you think, given some time, it might come back?” Remus asked, some unknown time after. 

“I want to say ‘yes,’ but really, how am I supposed to know? I know you love me and I love you but this changes things, Remus. And I’m not sure if I can go through with experimenting while everyone knows I’m trying to see if I want to dump you or not. That’s not a very pleasant way to have a relationship. It’s stressful and painful and I’d have all these constant expectations and people wondering what I’m thinking it’s just—”

“Hey, hey,” Remus said, calm tone making you realize yours was wild and reckless. “Y/N, look at me.” You obliged, disheartened. “If you’re talking what other people might think if they see us together after what we did, let me just say if they judge you in the slightest, they can go straight to Hell.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the girl considering getting back together with the man who cheated on her.”

Remus’ jaw tensed as he paused, letting premature anger disintegrate. “I know it’s easier for me to not care. But, what I’m trying to get across is that our relationship is ours. We are the only two people that matter in it.” 

“I just don’t want people thinking I have no standards,” you admitted, not knowing where a sudden teardrop came from but feeling it glide against your cheek. 

“If anyone ever says that about you, you can just send them to me, and I’ll tell them in excruciating detail how you didn’t take me back until knowing the entire story of me cheating on you and then I’ll punch them in the face, okay?” Remus smirked as you mustered a laugh, a small smile tasting of teardrops flickering onto your face. “I’ll do that, okay, and whatever else it takes. I love you. And I obviously cannot function without you. And I don’t want to beg you or force you into taking me back so please don’t feel like you owe me anything, because I’m the one who was stupid enough to cheat. But I love you more than I thought I could love anything and I promise I will never cheat again and do whatever’s necessary to gain your trust back. Anything to not lose you again.”

“Can I just,” you asked while standing up, stepping over to the edge of his bed, leaning down and kissing him. Kissing him inquisitively as if you didn’t know his lips by heart, but they were new now yet still the same. But you didn’t taste the clay-like texture of lipstick, couldn’t hear any of the words Aquila had said pressed up against this mouth. It was Remus’ and it was yours and when you pulled back there was a grin on your face bright enough to challenge the rising sun at the realization.

Maybe this all was just a low, just the dark abyss of momentary Hell and struggle, the nightmare that feels like forever when you are stuck in the deep pull of sleep. But after falling down there is only one place to go: upwards.

Your breath shook beautifully as you spoke. “I think… I think I can try. I want to. I love you.”

“I love you more, and always,” he promised, fingers trailing up your arm lazily, smiling in a way that made you believe in his words and the righteousness of your decision, so loving and tender and pure.

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by an anonymous user on Tumblr. Find me there under the same name @madforscamander


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